


That Was Only A Whim

by allmilhouse



Category: I Love You Again (1940)
Genre: Amnesia, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26055592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmilhouse/pseuds/allmilhouse
Summary: "Doc" Ryan goes from having his life saved by a tedious bore to becoming the man's accomplice in the span of about five minutes- how could not fall in love as well?
Relationships: Larry Wilson/Doc Ryan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	That Was Only A Whim

**Author's Note:**

> probably blasphemous to do this to a powell/loy movie but frank mchugh is like, really adorable in this

You meet the most interesting people on boats. That was why Ryan kept up the racket- that and the work was generally pretty pleasant. Oh sure, sometimes he’d strike out, no one would take him up on cards or dice, and he’d return to the States with less money than he’d left with. Or some morally upstanding crew member would catch wind of his gambling, and he’d be unceremoniously dumped at the nearest port. But he hasn’t had to work an honest day in years, and that was worth any maritime inconvenience he could think of. Well, almost any. 

This trip had started slow, a long, dull ride with fewer marks than the usual pleasure cruise offered, and so he couldn’t be blamed for having a few drinks one night, to liven up the place. 

And sure, taking out some frustrations by winding up the ship’s resident teetotalling busybody maybe wasn’t the smartest move. Everybody on board had heard of this fellow Wilson, and immediately started ducking him. As soon as he’d spot you, you were trapped in a conversation about the dullest little town in Pennsylvania, for as long as he could keep you, and he usually went long. Being a pillar of the community apparently didn’t come with any lessons on how to recognize polite excuses. 

Ryan felt good trying to turn the tables on old Grape-Juice Wilson, trapping him at the bar and offering to buy him a drink. He’d be a tough nut to crack but some of those respectable gentleman type had deep pockets, and could get hot under the collar, and if only he could get this rube alone in his cabin with a set of dice- 

But then, they were out on the deck, with Ryan trying to prove his sobriety, and before he knew it, he was in the water. 

The crew was very good about explaining what happened, after he’d dried off and sobered up. Upstanding citizen Larry Wilson had dived in after him, and ultimately saved his life, before sustaining an accidental head injury from the rescue crew belting him in the head with an oar. Just your routine man overboard scenario, a ship steward said with the straightest face possible. 

Well this changes things. One rule Ryan had learned in his line of work was that when someone saves your life, you owe them. Both in direct favors, and in improving your life. To take the precious gift of a second chance at life, and to throw it away on ocean liner gambling seemed in poor taste, especially when the man who saved him was a reformer type. 

And so here he was, manning the bedside vigil and waiting for his hero to wake up so he could thank him personally, and to apologize for his earlier behavior. He should’ve figured the handsy drunk routine wouldn’t have gotten very far with a fella like this. Shame though, because despite his personality he was a bit of a looker. 

Ryan asked around about Wilson that morning before he was allowed in the man’s room, trying to get a feel for him besides his initial reading. Turns out his gut was right. No one on board seemed to have much regard for him, finding him at best a nuisance and at worst the biggest buzzkill since prohibition. He thought about browsing the man’s possessions when he was left alone in the cabin, but ruled against it. Today would be the start of a new, better Doc Ryan. He’d have to shed the false moniker, of course, but that could come later. 

He'd tried going straight before- just about every crook had contemplated it once or twice, usually at their lowest point. Ironically it was for a girl. But it didn't take- neither the up-and-up nor the romance, and that was how he found himself once again working the boats. It suited him much better. People don't tend to ask as many questions when you're only going to know each other a few short weeks, and sometimes you meet an obliging young man who shares your interests and- 

Wilson stirs then, and Ryan steels himself, ready to take the bore's advice, and change the course of his life. 

____

So the wakeup didn't go as planned, since the horror of Habersville wasn’t who he thought he was. 

Ryan had never been happier that he'd morbidly studied the cases of gamblers and grifters who met grisly ends- George Carey was one of those names that always stuck out to him. The poor bastard had got on a train and was never heard from again. Everyone suspected foul play, and his old partner Duke Sheldon was nearly run out of town, but no one ever proved anything. Of course, no one ever thought to check the chamber of commerce in Habersville, PA. 

George Carey was a legend, even before his mysterious disappearance. He was gone by the time Ryan hit the scene but he'd heard enough to respect the man by reputation alone. Of course no one was in top form coming off of a decade of amnesia, but Ryan could see signs of the hardened professional under the confusion and mental illness. The way his mind was already turning, trying to figure out an angle. Not mourning his lost past, but trying to catch up on an unknown future. 

The highlight should have been Carey- no, Wilson, to keep up the scheme- offering him 25% of this new swindle, and don't get him wrong, it was a pleasure to be asked. But his mind kept going back to the way George-no-Larry’s hands clutched his lapels, the desperation in those long, firm fingers as he tried to understand what had happened. 

They had a few days before the ship docked, and Ryan wasted no time in getting Wilson up to speed. He couldn’t imagine what it was like, waking up one day and finding out you’d missed nine years. He didn’t know much about the old crew or what the rackets looked like now- one downside of being out on the sea 90% of the time. But he was able to keep him informed on trends, news, styles. 

The end of prohibition was probably the biggest change, but for the sake of appearances they both decided Larry Wilson shouldn't be seen imbibing. So it was Ryan's trusted job to smuggle him in liquor every night. His self-assigned title came in handy, and he was able to wrangle some command as Wilson's private doctor managing his recovery. 

Wilson stayed confined to his cabin for the most part, playing up the sick angle, and from his previous behaviour onboard, not a single passenger missed him. If anything, it was the opposite, and Ryan would sometimes find himself cornered at the bar, unable to escape a well wisher offering to buy him a drink as a thanks for keeping Wilson laid up and out of their hair. 

"It was my pleasure," he said, smiling at the truth of the statement. 

He was the only one permitted in Wilson's cabin, and the way Wilson's eyes would light up at the sight of him got Ryan drunker than any liquor could. He tried to rationalize it as Wilson hard up for company, but it still made his heart beat faster. 

"It's just like the old times," Wilson would say as Ryan prepared him a cocktail, a huge smile on his face. 

They settled down to business, planning what they’d do when the ship docked. As he wired ahead to secure a hotel room, Ryan idly thought about whether he could pull the old _only one bed_ routine. 

____

Like every scheme that went wrong in his life, this one had a dame involved. To be fair, how could either of them had known that Larry was married. To be unfair, Larry must've been an awful husband to talk the ears off every passenger onboard and not mention his beautiful wife Kay at least once. Hell, he mentioned that damn Hoot Owl troop at least half a dozen times to Ryan alone, although unfortunately without an accompanying picture of Wilson in full regalia. The neckerchief alone sounded _adorable_.

The worst part about Mrs Wilson was that she was absolutely charming. Not after money or aftection or anything sordid- just a perfectly lovely woman tired after wasting half a decade married to the town bore, a man who on all accounts seemed to be oblivious to a loving partner when it was right in front of him. Ryan was sympathetic. 

They got the gist from Kay’s new fella who burst into their hotel room (two beds, unfortunately), and socked Wilson, sending him tumbling into Ryan’s protective arms, all without leaving his name. It was a good thing Wilson wasn’t a hot-blooded man, because Ryan doubted his ability in a rematch, although he would be willing to catch him again. However, Wilson couldn’t be talked out of calling up the missus and trying to take her to dinner.

Ryan insisted on helping him get ready. First order of business was a haircut and a shave, trimming that stuffy old-man moustache down into something halfway manageable. Wilson could arrange the dinner reservation and menu himself- fine dining trends don’t change that much over the years. That only left his suit. 

The tailor was close to the hotel, smart enough but not so upscale that they’d break their budget, just advanced from the Habersville National Bank. Ryan gave him a quick rundown on the current fashion ( _”Remember, union suits are out.” “Doc, I’m an amnesiac, not an old-timer.”_ ), before Wilson was pulled into the fitting room by an eager sales clerk, and he was left alone to browse, and to catch his breath. 

The plan had changed a few times now, Wilson proving adept on his feet and good at spinning a yarn to get them out of an unexpected jam. Currently, they had decided on going down to Habersville in the morning and seeing what the upstanding Wilson could scam out of the town. Well, that was the plan before Wilson decided on dinner with the wife. Who knows what the next move would be. See, this is why he stuck to the boats. “No heartbreak over the boss if there’s no boss,” he said glumly to an uninterested mannequin. 

Another few minutes of mindless meandering, and then Wilson reappeared at the doorway, looking absolutely dapper in white tie. 

“Well, what do you think? Am I presentable?”

Ryan squeaked something to the affirmative, while Wilson came closer, taking the suit for a test walk. He looked like he was made for it, like he should always be dressed to the nines, and swindling high class people in high class places. He was gonna make one hell of an impression at dinner tonight, and Ryan hoped, for Larry’s sake, that Kay would appreciate it. 

He leaned in to smooth Wilson’s lapels and straighten his tie, a flimsy excuse, and a complete reversal from their encounter at the bar on the boat. His stubby fingers lingered only a second, just enough to compose himself and bite back that dangerous impulse to lean up and kiss Wilson. 

Laughing a little nervously at how close he’d gotten, he reluctantly let go and tried to pull back, when he was thrown for yet another loop.

After a quick, furtive glance back to make sure they were still alone, Wilson tugged him closer, taking advantage of Ryan’s surprise to press in and kiss him. His mouth went slack in shock and it took a good few seconds before he was able to kiss back, but Wilson could work a miracle in a few seconds. 

They broke apart, Ryan again making a small squeak. He looked up at Wilson in awe, absolutely stunned. 

“I uh, took the liberty of getting us train tickets for tomorrow,” Wilson said, his neatly trimmed moustache quirking up in a smile. “As long as you’re still onboard?”

He laughed, that nervous little laughter trilling higher and higher. "You followed me into the ocean, of course I'll follow you into Habersville."


End file.
